he insists you go home, his voice laced with a tiredness you're not used to. it sounds different, a bit tense. you relent with a sigh, packing your things up that are scattered about.

"have a good night, mr. higuruma." you say as you open the door, giving him one last look before you leave, a sweet smile on your lips. the sound of your heels echo in the empty hallway until they fade away, leaving hiromi alone.

he sighs, his body relaxing into the seat, suit jacket discarded and thrown on the small table. the cool leather of his desk chair is a welcome change to the heat coursing through his veins.

hot.

he feels so incredibly warm. loosening a few of his shirt buttons isn't enough, skin practically burning when his fingers graze against his chest. the ceiling fan circulates the same stiff air that's been suffocating him since you came into the office. he wants to crawl out of his skin to find relief, wants to sink into a tub full of ice until his bones become as brittle as those cubes.

hiromi isn't blind, he knows you're attractive. and you're smart — funny, too. you snort at his deadpan retorts, a cute sound that makes him smile every time. you're perfect and if he found you ten years earlier, he might've proposed on the spot.

well, ten years earlier and not working underneath him. you're completely morally and ethically taken. not only would it be unprofessional for hiromi to act on his feelings, it'd be a whirlwind of other problems, too. power imbalances would come into play, possible favoritism (not that he has any other assistants at the moment), and of course there's the chance you don't reciprocate.

so he pushes those thoughts to the side. focuses on being professional and friendly. tries his hardest to not let his mind wander to you when he needs to relieve stress.

it doesn't work, of course. he has his eyes and his hands and his imagination. that's all he'll allow himself. all he can allow himself before he falls deeper than he can crawl out.

"fuck me..." he pinches the bridge of his nose, his mind supplying him with the image of you today. a pencil skirt. hiromi is hot and bothered by a skirt.

the fabric hugged your form perfectly, showing the curves of your body that he thought of grabbing onto as he pulled you close. and damn, your legs looked amazing, too. give him the opportunity and he'd fall to his knees, kissing up and up and up those gorgeous calves. he'd worship the heat between your thighs, tongue lapping all you have to give.

his cock twitches in his pants, a reminder of why he insisted on you leaving. hiromi needed to be alone. he was barely able to focus on a single thing other than you all day, mind instead supplying scenarios, all of which were inappropriate.

he wasn't lying that he wanted to look over that case again. he just needed to get rid of all distractions first.

guilt washes over him, his hand resting on top of his bulge, gently squeezing as he hopes to think of anything but you.

it doesn't work.

a heavy exhale leaves his lips as he pulls out his half hard cock, giving into his desires.